


Marked

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Nwalin Week, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dwalin was still too young to legally get an tattoo without a permission, he found himself an artist who would not care for that. And since there wasn't one better than Nori, he stayed with him even long after he reached his maturity</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> discussion of getting tattoos and needles

The first time Dwalin decided that he wanted a tattoo; he was only barely old enough to start his serious weapons training with more than wooden sticks and swords. He didn’t feel too young for such a decision, and he had everything planed out carefully. It wasn’t a whim, and he actually took some time considering before asking. 

Neither Balin nor their ‘adad even listened to Dwalin’s request, dismissing the very idea of him getting his skin inked before he reached maturity. And no respectable artist would agree to do that for him at this age without having the permission of his family.

Luckily Dwalin was young and reckless and didn’t give a damn about respectable, and he had no problem with looking for someone who’d not care for his age or permissions or anything legal really.

The one thing Dwalin did care about was that his tattoo had to be good. He didn’t want someone, who couldn’t legally be an artist for quality reasons, to make it. So he asked around before deciding, trying his best to figure out what to make of any suggestions he received from his friends or drinking buddies.

“Nori is good at what you want,” most said. “He is good and will never talk about it to the wrong people. Secrets are safe with him.”

“He does beautiful designs,” others said when Dwalin said that he had a draft of a motive, but would have to get it drawn better before actually putting it on his skin.

“He’s good in making things look nice and clean.”

When Dwalin found out that this Nori was even younger than him, he laughed, and still people promised that he was already brilliant and had a steady hand.

“No, trust me, he’s good!” one of the other patrons of the shoddy inn said and pulled down his collar to reveal an intricate knot design on his shoulder. It _was_ good and got him some admiring mutters. 

Dwalin thought about it for a while, and then decided that this artist was good enough for him, and with his age he wouldn’t want anyone to talk too much either. He asked his friend to arrange a meeting with Nori and then went home to think about his future tattoo some more.

*-*-*-* 

The workshop wasn’t looking much like anything Dwalin would have imagined a tattooist’s place to look like, it wasn’t large and not anywhere near the parts of Ered Luin one would look for a reputable business. Then again, it wasn’t what Dwalin was looking for anyway.

The place he had been told to go to, was located in a street where mostly just taverns and living spaces with cheap rent stood, and the workshop’s room seemed to belong to the latter. The first thing Dwalin noticed when he was admitted into the shop, were the chairs, the cot and the little shelf with boxes of neatly organized materials. Bottles of ink and tins he couldn’t tell the contents of stood in rows next to leather cases with tools and bundles of paper.

The second thing Dwalin noticed was the Dwarf who let him inside. He couldn’t be older than him, he even looked younger. Just the age artists might let their apprentices practice drawing designs, but certainly not old enough to be marking somebody’s skin.

Dwalin wasn’t old enough to have somebody do that to him either, and from what he had seen of the other’s work, he _was_ good at what he did.

“Nori?” he asked, and the Dwarf nodded with a grin.

“’s me. And you must be Dwalin? I was reassured that you can keep your mouth shut all right.”

He shook Dwalin’s hand and looked him over unabashedly, leaving Dwalin to do the same.

Nori was much shorter and slim, though he might be one of those who had growth spurts late in life. His beard was too short for a braid, but his red-brown hair was tied into neat intertwining plaits.

“So, what sort of thing can I do for you today?” Nori asked then, once he was done staring.

Dwalin fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. He had tried to draw the pattern he wanted over and over, and this was his best result yet. Nori took it and glanced at it, considering for a bit before handing it back.

“Does it have a meaning?” he asked and Dwalin shook his head.

“Just something I like. I’m not very good at this, but I just wanted a knot like that… Maybe with the lines a bit straighter.”

He really wasn’t the best artist out there, not with ink and quills, just good enough for concept sketches for his own metalwork projects. The pattern he wanted on his skin was partially inspired by something he had once engraved on a simple bronze armlet.

Nori laughed at the comment, and then went to retrieve some clean paper and ink. Both of it looked cheap, but Nori just sat down and carefully started drawing something. He had a steady hand, Dwalin noticed, and the lines he did were straight and didn’t smudge, which was a good sign, he supposed.

After a few minutes Nori gently lifted the paper and blew at the ink to let it dry quicker, before handing it over to Dwalin. It was his design, but done indefinitely better that he would have managed. The lines were all very neat now, making it look better than before. Nori had tweaked it a little, making some lines of the knot broader, and the ones creating spiky edges thinner, making the entire thing look like something Dwalin wouldn’t regret wearing on his skin forever.

“Is this acceptable?”

“This… It’s perfect, I couldn’t have gotten it like this.”

Nori smiled and put away the materials he had used.

“Then we just need to decide where you want it. Depending on the size I could even get it done today.”

Dwalin gestured at his right knee.

“There, nothing big, kind of at the side on my thigh?”

Nori glanced down then nodded and gestured to the chair. 

“All right, sit down then. You want it in black?”

Dwalin sat down and pulled his trouser leg up to expose his knee as Nori started getting out all the things he would need. They discussed the exact placement and size, and Nori showed Dwalin how his inks looked like when dried. He seemed to know what he was doing, and Dwalin was getting more confident about this.

The hair around his knee was shaved off and Nori got out some spirit to clean the exposed skin, as well as his hands and his tools. With some light ink he quickly copies the knot design onto Dwalin’s thigh and then waited for Dwalin to confirm the final placement.

Before Nori got out the needles and started with the actual tattoo he reached under the chair and pulled out a large flask.

“For the nerves,” he said with a grin “it’s on the house.”

Dwalin took it and sniffed at the contents. It seemed to be a cheap but still good wine.

“Is it wise to be drunk while somebody sticks metal into you?” he asked and Nori just snorted.

“Getting somebody to stick needles into you who isn’t even legally allowed to get tattoos done for himself isn’t wise either.”

Dwalin couldn’t argue with that and took a large swig from the flask. The wine was good enough, and before him Nori slid to the floor and started his work. 

It was a strange sensation, not quite painful yet, but not pleasant either. He took another swig and watched Nori work. He was quick and neat about it, filling ink into his hollow needles and working along the design, rubbing the ink into Dwalin’s skin and wiping the excess off occasionally.

He didn’t speak as he concentrated on the first half of the work, and Dwalin watched and drank and tried not to twitch at unexpectedly painful pricks. Watching the needle helped a little with the pain, as well as the wine. He tried to stay still and Nori only sometimes asked him to move a little or spread his legs a little for better access. 

Eventually Nori started to get to the details, and then he started talking.

“Why’d you decide to get a tattoo?”

Dwalin tried not to shrug and stay still as he responded.

“Always liked the idea of one. And I didn’t want to wait years till I can decide for myself. Certainly not till I got permission.”

“You’re not getting this out of spite, did you?”

“No, ‘s a stupid thing to spite anyone. My folks probably won’t even see this one.”

Nori finished off one of the spikes before he spoke again.

“And this knot? Any reason?”

Dwalin stared at Nori’s braids. He wasn’t sure how to explain it without sounding ridiculous.

“I sometimes work with metals,” he started “to make trinkets and jewellery, though I never wanted it as a craft for myself.”

“And once I made a very simple thing, but the engraving I did was a really good one, I think. I liked the design and then I thought it’d be a shame to forget.”

Dwalin paused but Nori was still occasionally glancing up from where he worked, so he went on.

“I thought I might loose the armlet I did it on originally, or that I’d need the material or that I might not have any materials at all one day. Anything might happen. And the only way I will never loose it, is to have it on my skin. That’s why I decided that this should be my first tattoo.”

Nori hummed in understanding and Dwalin supposed that he really did. No Dwarf ever truly expected any of the many waves of misfortune that came over their people, but in the end it had given those that had fled Erebor certain wariness. 

They didn’t speak any more after that, and Nori worked on filling out the last lines of the knot. 

Dwalin finished the wine and watched, his eyes moving from what was happening on his skin to watching Nori. He couldn’t see much of his face at this angle, so he busied himself just staring at his braids, trying to figure out their complexity and whether there was any familiar sign in them.

A part of Dwalin’s brain (and it was certainly the one flooded by cheap alcohol) made him want to make a comment about their positions. It wasn’t every day that he had a Dwarf as pretty as Nori kneeling between his thighs. The rational part firmly demanded that he look anywhere but at Nori from then on.

It seemed like no time at all had passed before Nori leaned back a little and then cleaned off the rest of the ink.

“There,” he said and Dwalin looked down to see sharp black lines over reddened and swollen skin. It looked far better than he had imagined it to be.

“This is perfect!”

Nori’s smile was pleased and he went to clean his hands and materials, leaving Dwalin to gaze at the ink in wonder. He should probably thank Nori better than that, but he couldn’t think of anything.

Nori returned with a tin and some bandages, sitting down to show Dwalin how he was supposed to care for the tattoo for the next few days.

“You don’t want to have this get inflamed and this salve also eases the irritation,” Nori explained as he finished wrapping Dwalin’s knee in bandages. “You can have this tin, it should be enough for you.”

Dwalin took the offered thing, and looked down on it. It was a well-made little tin, one that would preserve the salve perfectly. From what little he knew of being around a cousin who was learning to be a healer, Dwalin could tell that this slave must have been expensive. A bit _too_ expensive for someone who took as little money as Nori.

He glanced at the tin, then up to Nori, wondering whether he might have stolen this, or whether Dwalin was just too drunk to see the obvious other possibility. What would he do if he had? Did it even matter? They were already doing things they weren’t supposed to.

Dwalin stared at Nori for a few seconds; saw how Nori looked tired and stretched a little after sitting in an awkward position for too long. Then he decided that he truly didn’t care whether some of the materials might be too expensive for an illegal tattooist and Nori had done a good job after all.

He fumbled for the coins he owed Nori for the mark on his knee and handed them over to Nori, who took them with a smile and started counting them. He hesitated when he was done.

“It’s too much,” he said cautiously, watching Dwalin as if waiting for a trick.

Dwalin just shrugged and tugged his trousers back into place. 

“For the materials. And because you did a better job than some masters of this craft. See it as an investment for next time.” 

Nori preened a little at that, and somewhere in Dwalin’s dizzy brain he questioned why he had basically agreed to return for another tattoo. It didn’t matter; he’d figure it out later.

He gave Nori a smile and limped out when Nori held open the door for him with the sweetest grin Dwalin had received in far too long to even remember.

 

*-*-*-*

Dwalin didn’t usually make a habit of promising things while his mind wasn’t clear, and then he didn’t go round actually doing what he said he would. Still, somehow it didn’t take more than a few months for him to stare at the knot on his thigh and wonder whether he shouldn’t get another one eventually.

Nobody in his family really knew of it, not even Thorin, who had been wandering with his father somewhere. Which meant that Dwalin might just get bolder and get another tattoo made before he reached the age at which he could actually visit a proper master. 

There was no reason for Dwalin not to get another, he liked the mark he had, he took some pride in having it and it was a beautiful piece. Nobody could tell him what he could or couldn’t do with his own skin because of a mere formality.

Nori didn’t look too surprised when Dwalin turned up again.

“Those of your age usually don’t come back for seconds after their dare,” he explained, as if he were the elder and already an experienced grown up. It only earned him a snort.

“On my ankle,” Dwalin said when Nori asked for what and where he wanted.

What he had in mind was a thick solid line encircling his right ankle, the black ink only interrupted by a few patterns similar to Dwalin’s personal crest. 

Nori pondered this for a while as he prepared his tools and the ink.

“This will hurt worse than the one you already have,” he warned, as if he was still waiting for Dwalin to back out. “’s a very sensitive spot and the bones don’t make it better.”

Dwalin didn’t want to hear any of it, he already had gotten his fair share of injuries while sparring and training with his weapons, and he really wanted this tattoo.

In the end, Nori had been right, and it _did_ hurt much worse. At first Nori’s hands gently moving over Dwalin’s ankle was a nice feeling, and the brush Nori used to outline what he would be doing tickled. The needle was a sharp and steadily increasing pain though.

Nori laughed at him, as Dwalin gritted his teeth and tried to not make a single sound of distress or shock when he didn’t expect the unpleasant prick. He had had worse, but sitting still and just getting more of the pain made it much more tedious. 

Despite Nori’s insistence that everyone hurt at some places Dwalin actually managed to remain stoic through all of it.

It was worth the endurance when Nori patted him on the shoulder and handed him a cup of wine to toast to the second tattoo.

They drank together and when Dwalin limped home that day he was entirely satisfied and knew that he would be coming back each time he wanted a new tattoo and was too young to get one.

*-*-*-*

Through the following years Dwalin kept visiting Nori, and each time he was greeted with a grin and sent back home after they shared a bottle of wine or mead or anything Nori had there. 

Soon a band around his arm and a stylized image of a bear graced Dwalin’s skin, followed by a very large, blocky pattern across his pectoral.

They talked while Nori worked, as silence didn’t seem to be part of what he needed to concentrate. Dwalin told him of his training, told him of his family, and Nori told him of all the shenanigans Dwalin missed out in the sleazy parts of Ered Luin. He rarely spoke of his own family in detail, but something about his cautious tone more than pacified Dwalin and he never minded it.

The cot Nori sometimes made him sit down on for a better position seemed to be large enough to serve as a bed, and sometimes Dwalin spied a folded shirt or remains of a dinner in the workshop. Perhaps Nori used it to live in occasionally.

“How did you learn to be so good at drawing these?” Dwalin asked once. 

The tattoos Nori made only grew better over time. Not that the earlier ones were bad, but there was some finesse in how Nori worked, and how he managed to make various seemingly identical inks look gorgeous on skin. Shades of black, darker than the actual lines of the tattoo, crossed his marks and only in the right light one could see patterns within the larger picture. Seemingly random lines and pointy shapes came together to pictures of animals in Nori’s sketches, and Dwalin loved it, and that alone would have been a good reason to return over and over.

Nori was working on the largest piece yet, the one on Dwalin’s chest then. He sat at Dwalin’s side where he lay propped against some pillows, which gave Dwalin the opportunity to see Nori’s smile. It was a sweet and near innocent one, and it made Dwalin want to kiss him for it.

“My little brother is a scribe and an artist. We always had so much cheap paper and ink for him to practice, and one day I joined him. He’s much better than me, but I do what I can.”

“Better?” Dwalin stared down at his skin, bearing proof of Nori’s talent.

“You already are the best I’ve ever seen!”

It made Nori’s smile grow wider and he looked away slightly.

“He’s good at actual pictures of things. I always botch that, lines and sharp edges are easier for me than to try and do portraits.”

Dwalin snorted.

“I can’t use a bow for shit. Wouldn’t say that I’m worse at fighting than an archer though.”

He couldn’t see Nori’s expression as he said this, as the Dwarf turned away to take another set of needles but Dwalin could have sworn he saw a barely suppressed laugh.

As the years passed and more and more ink started to crawl over Dwalin’s skin, he and Nori learned more of one another. They talked about their lives and Nori made Dwalin describe what kind of weapons he used while training and the metal work he did. Sometimes Nori would talk of himself but he would always carefully keep out too personal information about his background.

Dwalin learned that Nori often slept at the table, that he sometimes would forget to drink while concentrating on his work, and that it was better to remind him or ask for water or wine, which would make him remember it for himself. He found out that Nori did not have a single tattoo himself, that he didn’t want to go to another artist and that he didn’t like the thought of needles in his own skin. He found out that Nori would prefer to work until something was finished, but he did need his rest and this made the larger tattoos last weeks until completion. He saw that Nori always neatly wrapped two thirds of his coins into little leather pouches and knotted cord around them as if they were presents.

At one point Dwalin realized that he had long since reached the age he might go to a legal artist, and yet he was returning to Nori over and over. He could no longer tell when he had stopped teasing and when he had started to flirt with Nori in earnest, and he wasn’t sure whether Nori was just his usual self or whether there was real interest in his eyes when he looked at Dwalin.

Nori was the one he went to when he completed his training and had the right to wear a warrior’s tattoos, for which he chose the shape of his crossed axes across his back. It took hours of Nori straddling him and leaning close to work on the ink and the terribly detailed and complicated pattern.

Nori was the one he went to when Dwalin decided that he would also combine a symbol of his maturity, his family’s line and his status as a warrior and endured the pain of needles in his fingers. It meant that Nori was cradling his hand after all.

Sometimes they met and when Dwalin described what he wanted next it would drag on, until it was too late or they were both too drunk to do anything but drink more and laugh about it.

Never once did Dwalin actually do anything about wanting Nori, or trying if he even had a chance. He sometimes wanted to ask him if they could meet outside of the little workshop, or whether Nori was interested in having him over and not even pretend to talk about needles and ink.

And with how often he visited there was never _too_ much time between the days he saw Nori, or at least not more so than with some of his friends.

The longest Dwalin went without seeing Nori at all was six years, and that was only because at that point Nori was at home in Ered Luin and Dwalin was deep in their lost halls and the tunnels of Khazad-Dûm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same warnings as before, as well as Dwalin remembering a War, violence and traumatic events

When Dwalin was back in the Blue Mountains the air he breathed was too heavy on his lungs. Each time he tried to take a breath it tasted of iron and he felt his chest tightening and there was nothing at all he could do about it.

Sometimes he felt like roaring and breaking something, but there was already too much broken, there was no one who would want to hear what he had to say. They knew it, they felt it too, there was nothing about speaking to them that would help Dwalin. They understood, they had seen all he had seen and they knew what he wanted to get out so desperately, even though Dwalin himself couldn’t even tell what exactly it was.

He mourned his friends, he mourned his family and his father and his King, he mourned on behalf of Thorin, and he mourned for all these young soldiers and those who were older and now looked at fires or their own hands and were lost, and didn’t quite know what to feel or what to do. 

Some nights Dwalin woke and wanted to take his axes and march and beat down enemies and Orcs and the filth they had encountered deep in their lost Kingdom, before he remembered that it was over, that he was back in his own bed and that the only ones who heard him wake with a battle cry on his lips were his brother and his ‘amad, both of who didn’t need to worry about him in addition to all of their own grief.

The war was over, and their dead were burned and honoured in any way they had know. The hope to see the gates of their halls once more was a small one, such as actually reclaiming the realm, despite of their victory. 

To Dwalin this wasn’t enough. He still felt like he had these past years and so little time had passed since he had finally returned alive, it would take time to shake but it wasn’t fine. Dwalin knew he had to be patient and get used to his memories and his new scars, but there was something else…

He tried training and fighting and getting his excess energy out, but there was no energy left in him which he’d have to work out of his system. He tried to write it down but he had _never_ been good with words, not even to understand his own emotions. He tried to pick up tools and loose himself in his metalwork but his hands would not obey him and the wires and thin plates of gold he usually could shape into delicate forms now broke under his fingertips.

Dwalin didn’t even know what was going on. He felt as if there was something in his throat, clawing to get out but he didn’t know what to do. He grew more and more anxious with time, and he never spoke of it. There was nothing anyone could do to help him with something he didn’t understand either. 

His thoughts were not the only thing he had to get used to. There were scars on his arms and back and all across his ribs. He kept forgetting them, kept rediscovering new ones all the time, and sometimes he would look at his skin where think black lines were cut apart by bright red or old white lines of scar tissue. There was just so much he had to learn to adjust to, and barely any way he could see to make it easier.

How Dwalin had ended up at Nori’s doorstep he couldn’t tell, but eventually he walked there, through the near empty streets, and it wasn’t much of a surprise to him anymore. 

When Nori opened he looked different. His beard was now made out of some short braids twisted into coils, similar to his hair, and he looked older as well. Older than the six years should have justified. There was suspicion in his eyes when he carefully pushed the door open, and a tension about him, and then surprise when he recognized whom he was seeing.

“You survived,” he breathed, in the same near casual tone most were using when seeing someone who had not fallen in Khazad-Dûm, which was less likely than that they were dead.

He took Dwalin by the arm and led him inside. It wasn’t as neat as Dwalin remembered, there was leftover food on the table, and the blankets on the cot were all in disarray. There were a few knives lying on them, with a whetstone, and one of the knives was tucked into Nori’s belt. 

The knives looked well used and more like a full set of weapons than just an addition to something else. When Dwalin was pushed down into the chair he could not help but notice that Nori’s familiar stance was a defensive position. The workshop and its location as well as the windows were a good combination for a quick escape, and Dwalin neither cared nor understood how he had never noticed that. It didn’t matter, even if Nori was hiding more than he had expected. 

“Can you make another tattoo?” Dwalin asked, and his voice was muffled.

It took him some time to register that Nori was standing by his side, holding him close and rubbing over his arm soothingly, and that his face was pressed to his shirt. When he did, Dwalin raised his arms and clung to him.

“Do you really want one now?” 

Nori’s voice was so soothing, just his presence was enough. He hadn’t been there, he couldn’t possibly know of what the warriors who had walked to the Misty Mountains had been through. Yet somehow Dwalin thought that Nori would understand him anyway, if he talked. If he wanted to, but suddenly talking felt unnecessary. 

“I _need_ one,” Dwalin wasn’t sure whether he was crying or not, but what did that matter anyway. “Azanulbizar… I was at the gates. I could see the fire inside them even from where I was standing and I saw it all, I saw the gates… I need a reminder, please, this isn’t something one can forget.”

Part of Dwalin wanted to forget that battle, wanted to forget the endless years and the gates, wanted to forget the red-stained mud and seeing his father lying in broken armour, and wanted to forget the fires and the stench of burning flesh or the ash in his hair when he had stood at Balin’s side to watch.

Nori’s laugh was dry and his hand brushed through Dwalin’s hair, his fingers catching on tangles.

“Is it something you could forget?”

“… no. But I want there to be a reminder.”

Dwalin looked up and his hands were shaking. He needed _something_ , he needed to bear the mark of it.

“I don’t care… Just make something. Anything. Where everyone can see.”

Nori watched him wordlessly but he didn’t refuse, and his hands were so calming.

“On my head.”

Dwalin pointed to where the crest of hair needed a comb. The sides of his head were shaved and might serve, but was it enough?

“All across my head,” he corrected.

Nori opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded. 

“If you wish.”

He went to get his tools, and the ink and that was familiar, but this time there was no sketchbook. He made Dwalin sit down on the floor and then sat behind him on the floor, wrapping one arm around his chest.

Nori had brought a thin sharp knife, and scissors and when he started to cut off Dwalin’s hair and gently scrape the blade over his scalp, Dwalin nearly shuddered in desperation and envy. He couldn’t hold any blade without his mind telling him to lash out and kill the enemies, to save himself even if there was nobody there, and he certainly could not do something like bringing sharp objects too close to his skin. He did not trust his hands to remember how to be careful after all.

The hair fell over his shoulders and onto the floor, and soon all of Dwalin’s crest was gone, and he felt Nori’s hands carefully clean his scalp to prepare him for the procedure. 

The pain was the worst Dwalin had ever felt when Nori pricked the ink into his skin, but it was nothing compared to other sorts of pain, and he could feel Nori’s hands brushing over his cheek and his body pressed up against his. It was painful and comforting and Dwalin felt at peace with the familiarity. He didn’t think of anything, just of Nori’s breath ghosting over his skin and how it was easier to breathe like this.

He couldn’t have told how long it took until Nori finally wiped a cloth over his scalp and declared it finished in a quiet voice. It seemed like hours upon hours of silence. 

It took Nori two mirrors and some awkward shuffling to make it possible for Dwalin to see what Nori had done on his head. The pale skin that used to be covered by thick hair was swollen and red, and Dwalin recognized the style of the dark hard lines.

He had seen it in Balin’s books and carved into stone or woven into tapestries that told of the history of Durin’s folk, and he had seen the real thing, not just a stylized depiction of the gates of Khazad-Dûm. 

It was well made, and Dwalin could even recognize the tiny squares with a subtle symbol of loss and morning underneath the image of the gates. It was beautiful work, and somehow just the knowledge of having this on his skin was enough to make breathing easy. His hands didn’t shake and there no longer was something clawing at his throat.

Dwalin hadn’t had any words to express what he wanted, and here Nori hadn’t even been where he had but he understood and made what Dwalin needed. The marks on his skin were telling more of Dwalin’s life than he could ever say, and now this part of his life was displayed in a way that was more than enough for what it meant for him.

He had no words for his gratitude either.

Dwalin took Nori’s ink-stained hands in his and gently bowed his head to press their foreheads together. 

“I needed that. Thank you.”

Nori’s hands were so strong but delicate in Dwalin’s rough and too big ones, but he didn’t pull away even though Dwalin wasn’t sure whether he was gentle enough. Their faces were so close, noses nuzzled together side by side and perhaps this was too intimate, but it felt like the only thing to do now.

Nori’s breath hitched slightly, and Dwalin stared down, wondered how little effort it would take to just lean in that little bit closer and kiss him. He had wanted to, before, sometimes. He still did, but his hands were always shaking these days, and he couldn’t even think of doing this in that moment. It would be all wrong now. 

He pulled away again, afraid that Nori would see it as a definite rejection, but Nori’s face was still showing the same understanding as before. His hands cradled through Dwalin’s remaining hair as he edged back half a step.

“Take care of yourself,” he just said, before opening the door and brushing his hand over Dwalin’s elbow as he let him out. 

Dwalin nodded and walked back home. He would, he would try and now he thought that he even could. As he walked back home he could already feel how something inside him felt much more whole than it had ever since he reached the Misty Mountains. It was just the ache of his skin and a few dark lines, but somehow it felt right now.

 

*-*-*-*

For one reason or another Dwalin didn’t return to Nori’s workshop for the next few days. He wanted to, he wanted to thank him or to talk to him or maybe apologize for his behaviour and the weakness he showed. He wanted to just be around him, to talk and maybe… just have Nori by his side.

By the time Dwalin finally got around to it, the workshop was empty. All of Nori’s inks and tools were gone, and the place looked as if nobody was living there anymore. There was no note, no sign of a hurried escape or a fight, and Dwalin had to tell himself that Nori wouldn’t have a reason to go and explain to him, that it was normal that he didn’t know of this now.

He wasn’t sure who to ask, wasn’t sure who exactly even knew of Nori. The taverns still weren’t as well visited as before so many Dwarves left, but it was good enough. Barely anyone knew anything about Nori or where he was, but some had suggestions.

“I heard he ran away.”

“Always in trouble that one; was surprised that he stayed as long as he did.”

“Will return when ‘e feels safe, that bastard.”

“Always the thief getting in the way of the angry folk.”

From what little Dwalin could piece together Nori had fled Ered Luin sometime during the day he had visited him to get the tattoos on his head, maybe early on the day after. Nobody knew where exactly he had gone of course, as Nori wouldn’t have wanted anyone to track him down.

Dwalin listened to all of this and stared into his nearly untouched jug of ale. He barely felt anything about it. Disappointment, maybe. Angry with himself that he hadn’t managed to kiss Nori that night, and wondering whether it would have made a difference about Nori needing to leave the Blue Mountains. What if he had kissed him years ago? Would that have changed it? Would it just have led to Nori worrying about him even more?

There was nothing Dwalin could do about it, and he actually wasn’t that close to Nori to have a right to know. Whatever he was, it was not like he even could demand to know. He could only wait and hope that one day Nori would be back.

 

*-*-*-*

 

Dwalin didn’t count the years he did not see or hear of Nori. He didn’t wonder where he was and whether he was safe too much, not more than he wondered about anyone else, no more than when Balin was away, or when Thorin was wandering where he wasn’t. 

He would keep his ears open and sometimes he walked very close to where Nori’s workshop was, but he never actually turned into the street.

Sometimes he would look at his tattoos, all of them work of good quality and the more recent ones just getting more beautiful. There was a lot of space left on his skin, though he already had a great amount of ink on it, too, but never once did Dwalin think of something else he might want anywhere.

There were things happening, people and events he would want to honour, but he never felt like there was something suitable for them. There was also never something he liked enough to want on his skin. It didn’t really matter whether he had more, though, so he let it be.

Years passed, and he never once saw Nori, and then came the day when Óin approached Thorin and told him of signs and ravens flying home. Years had passed, and the near empty throne room was the place he finally saw Nori again.

He stood with his brothers, swearing loyalty to Thorin and there was talk of him having trouble with the law. Dwalin was just glad to see him alive.

“Never thought to see you here,” he said to Nori, after greeting him like one would any good friend after a short absence.

Nori looked a little tense when Dwalin approached him, but then he seemed to be reassured by his tone. He smiled crookedly.

“The circumstances gave me few other choices.”

His eyes turned to Dwalin’s head, examining the result of his work. He had hardly ever seen how the finished things looked like after the skin was no longer swollen, unless the next tattoo was close to it. 

“Turned out nicely.”

“Yes,” Dwalin smiled. He was proud of the marks on his head.

“What kind of trouble have you gotten into in all these years?”

He wanted to know, wanted Nori to tell him stories again, and maybe even find out why he had left all those years ago. But this moment his older brother had noticed their interaction.

Dori had wanted to fetch Nori to come and help with their family’s packs, but when he approached he glanced between Nori and Dwalin.

“You know each other?” he asked, and before either could reply he grabbed Nori’s wrist and bowed to Dwalin slightly. “Well, I can imagine what he might have done, but I do apologize on my brother’s behalf.”

Dwalin wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he automatically grunted and nodded in agreement. He caught Nori’s eye but the artist just shook his head slightly and followed his brother as he was pulled along.

“What kind of thing did you do to cross one of _his_ kind?” Dwalin could hear Dori asking, but he ignored it. He couldn’t really tell that Nori hadn’t done a thing wrong, or why a warrior of noble family knew someone as Nori.

 

*-*-*-*

 

Travelling together was all right, as was being around the Dwarves of the company. Dwalin hadn’t known what it would be like to be around Nori for every day, but it was good. They didn’t talk that much, not with eleven other Dwarves around them, as well as a wizard and a Hobbit. But when they did, or when they weren’t quite sure what to talk about it wasn’t awkward. 

It had always been just the two of them, close to one another and drinking wine before, now there was always somebody else around and they had to adjust to that. 

Dwalin found that he liked Nori even when he was quiet and keeping to the sides mostly, and that he still wanted him the way he had before. There was no opportunity for privacy, and Dwalin never tried to look for it. Whatever he might have done about them, maybe the kiss he had wished for, would have to wait until they were in Erebor. 

He saw how Nori was around others, too. He saw how Ori would always write and draw in his journal, and how Nori always complimented him for what he did, but that he never once set to draw something of his own. Even though Dwalin remembered how he would always start to absently sketch something if one just waited long enough.

He saw how Nori and Dori were tense around each other, but seemed to try and have conversations that didn’t end in Dori being suspicious and snapping at his brother, or Nori getting rude and sarcastic. 

*

One day he was sitting at the campfire, while most others of the company had gone to explore the area. Balin and Dori were close by, talking, and Dwalin couldn’t help but overhear.

“He had always been like this, never managing to get along with any master and then he wouldn’t work but only ever steal, I don’t think there ever was a craft he could live with. You wouldn’t believe how often he would simply wander in and give me poaches of coins, wrapped with ribbons like a present! All stolen, he never worked after all.”

Dori looked miserable at that.

“I do understand that Nori only ever wanted to help how he could, but I wish he wouldn’t have _stolen_ it.”

Dwalin didn’t know whether he should say something about it, whether he should tell Dori that Nori was actually working for his coins, even if his work hadn’t been entirely respectable or legal either. He looked to where Nori was sitting with Bifur, and when Nori looked up to meet his eye, Dwalin only forced a little smile and turned back to poke at the fire with a stick.

*

There was _some_ uncertainty between them, at all times. Neither made a move, neither tried to initiate anything and at least Nori never looked too disappointed when Dwalin had a chance, but didn’t do anything, he only ever looked like he was waiting and expecting something.

One night Dwalin left his bedroll to walk a little and maybe find one of the streams he had heard when they were setting up their camp. There were cliffs nearby, leading down into a valley he wouldn’t even see the bottom of, and trees were growing everywhere.

Nori was leaning against one, looking out over the valley below.

“Can’t you sleep?” Dwalin asked and stepped closer, too close really, but Nori didn’t shift away as he looked up and shook his head.

“Sometimes I can’t at night,” he said with a shrug.

Dwalin stood so close to him that he could feel the heat radiating from Nori’s body, and they were nearly touching. It was intimate, the way they were facing one another, and reminded him of the night he had gotten his last tattoo.

Nori’s eyes were bright, as they searched Dwalin’s face, but he didn’t lean closer and Dwalin wasn’t sure whether he was permitted to. They stood silently, until Nori took Dwalin’s hand. His fingers brushed over the leather straps of the knuckle-dusters and pushed aside the worn metal slightly, to rub his fingertips over the tattoos on Dwalin’s hands. 

They both looked down at it, until Nori sighed.

“I’ll go and try to sleep now. You should do that, too.”

Dwalin watched Nori disappear through the trees and wondered why he hadn’t simply pushed against him for a kiss and more and just a touch.

*

The company wandered on, and sometimes Nori‘s bedroll would lie next to Dwalin’s. They would sit by each other’s sides and when there was a fight Nori’s back was always to Dwalin’s, them watching out for one another. When it was cold Dwalin sometimes found himself with an armful of Nori, and somehow it all seemed natural.

Once in a while Dwalin would think that the way he and Nori were always in each other’s personal space or touching casually might have been too intimate. But between him and Nori it wasn’t anything special, it still felt as if it wasn’t anything to Dwalin, as if he had to do something more to actually make it what it might seem like.

Nori never said anything about it, and only sometimes Dwalin would hear somebody else teasing them for it. It was never much though; it was never real, not even when they started to share their bedroll when it got colder in the Mirkwood. Dwalin hadn’t said anything after all, so it couldn’t have a meaning.

Whatever they did, whatever would have been a line crossed with anyone else, seemed like the obvious thing to do. Nobody said anything when Dwalin joined Nori in the room he picked when they were in Laketown, none said a word when they huddled together when everyone feared for the dragon to come down once more to burn them all.

Somehow there was nothing strange about Nori being the one he clung to after he survived the battle, and that it was him he leaned against when the grief and loss threatened to overwhelm him.

And when Dwalin chose the house he wanted for himself later on it seemed right that Nori walked by his side, and that he moved about the house as if it was his, too.

He stood silently as Nori walked through the house, inspected the rooms and the things they could restore to make it feel better and more like a home, disappearing and reappearing as he passed Dwalin. As he did so, Dwalin just stood and watched, wondering how he had lasted so long without ever once asking Nori for a kiss, or without even telling him that he loved him, when he had first stated to realize that this was what he felt. 

Eventually Nori came to halt in front of Dwalin.

“I like it,” he said simply, nodding in approval after his little inspection.

“Would you let me kiss you?” Dwalin blurted out in place of any rational response. Nori blinked but didn’t reply, so Dwalin went on, feeling ridiculous as he did so.

“Would you have me? Would you be mine? I don’t have anything to give you right now, but I would wish to court you, if you wanted to.”

Nori made a soft huff that sounded like a suppressed chuckle.

“You’re asking _now_?”

He didn’t sound surprised at all though. Dwalin frowned a little.

“So would you…”

Nori leaned against him, his hands grabbing at Dwalin’s arms.

“I thought you already were mine. Didn’t you see it like that?”

Dwalin wanted to reply but then Nori was tilting his head up and they kissed, finally. It was a sweet kiss, both in how gentle Nori’s touch was and how his lips tasted.

It felt both new and completely familiar in a way, to have Nori rubbing up against him, and Dwalin wrapped his hands around Nori’s waist. He led him to the bedroom, slowly and kissing and running their hands over one another as they did so. There was desperation in their touches, but they didn’t rush any of it, walking slowly and there barely was any heat it their kiss, just a need to be close to one another. 

The bed was messy, furs and blankets Dwalin had picked out throw across it as he couldn’t be bothered to pick out which he wanted to keep there at the time. Nori moved away a little, to start undressing, and Dwalin did the same, slower, due to the ache of his most recent injuries.

Nori was already sitting on the bed when he was finally done, completely bare, and in this light his skin seemed to be completely devoid of any mark, pale without any of the black lines that crossed Dwalin’s body everywhere. Only when he came close did Dwalin notice the faint scars covering all of Nori’s body and the freckles on his shoulders. It was a lovely sight.

Dwalin sat down with him, and they wrapped their arms around one another, kissing, and Dwalin _wanted_ him, wanted more, but too much movement hurt and even just holding Nori was enough for now and there was no heat in how he kissed him.

Nori pushed him away slightly, looking down at Dwalin’s body, eyes wide, darting over each of his tattoos. The way he looked them all over made Dwalin realize that Nori had never seen all of them like this, had only ever seen the patches of skin he was working on, and that had been a lot but never all at once.

Dwalin contended himself to sit still as Nori let his hands run over the marks, digging his fingers into his skin gently or rubbing over the lines as if he expected the ink to smudge.

The ministrations made him feel sleepy, and really, he shouldn’t be feeling like that when he finally had the Dwarf he had wanted for so many years naked in his bed, but Nori’s hands pushed him into the furs and brushed over his hair. It was comfortable, and Nori didn’t seem to be disappointed at all. And it was nice to just lie on his stomach and have Nori’s hands over his back. It was relaxing, and Nori was gently rubbing the tension out of him.

None of the tattoos looked like they had when Nori made them, all of them were cut apart by scars in at least one point, however small they were, so Nori hadn’t seen how they were like at this point.

“You only have mine,” Nori whispered after a while, his voice sounding strange, and when Dwalin mumbled a confirmation he leaned down, his chest pressed to Dwalin’s back and then Dwalin could feel him kissing his skin near where it was covered by ink.

They stayed like that for a while, Nori kissing along the scars and the marks, and stroking everywhere soothingly. Dwalin relaxed into it, feeling more at ease than he had for too long.

After a while Nori’s fingers paused low on Dwalin’s spine, where two of the thickest lines crossed underneath the stylized axes.

“You know,” Nori said and rubbed the spot “I have marked you here.”

Dwalin tried to move his head to look back at Nori’s face, but it was difficult in his position.

“How so?”

“A maker’s mark. Nobody would know it for what it is, it looks like part of the pattern here.”

He stroked his fingers across the lines then returned to the mark. It wasn’t unusual; really, a lot of the better artists worked their marks into large designs. The thought of Nori’s name on his skin however…

“You are already mine, always were if you want to see it like this,” Nori laughed, and Dwalin turned around to grab Nori’s shoulders and then rolled so that he was lying on top of him. 

He tried to brace himself above him, but his arms ached and Dwalin ended up pressing Nori into the furs and covers. Nori didn’t seem to mind it at all and smiled as he tugged at Dwalin’s beard to kiss him once more.

Dwalin kissed him deep, rubbing Nori’s face with his thumbs and working his fingers through Nori’s hair to work it out of the simpler braids he was wearing these days.

“You do want me?”

Nori’s hands wrapped around Dwalin, settling at where his mark was.

“You’re mine,” he confirmed and nuzzled against Dwalin’s cheek.

“Would you marry me?”

This time Nori took some time before replying.

“If you’d have me.”

He kissed Dwalin briefly and nodded.

“I’d be an honour, Dwalin son of Fundin, to be your husband.”

Dwalin kissed him again, feeling like he’d have the most ridiculous smile on his face if he let himself do anything else. They lay like that, curled against each other, and Nori looked so content underneath him.

Dwalin pulled some of the blankets closer to at least have Nori wrapped up, he knew that he got cold easier than him. The motion send spiked of pain through him, but before it got too bad Nori took the covers from him and finished draping them so that they were both wrapped up in them.

Dwalin let himself relax against Nori, where they were still holding on to each other. The black lines on Dwalin’s skin were a sharp contrast to where they were right next to Nori’s pale skin, and it looked right somehow.

“I’m yours then,” he said and buried his hands in Nori’s hair. 

He wanted to see him, wanted to watch Nori but his eyelids felt heavy and the gentle rise and fall of Nori’s chest and their calm breaths made Dwalin feel like he couldn’t stay awake for much longer.

“Yes,” Nori agreed and nuzzled his face against Dwalin’s cheek. He seemed to watch Dwalin for a while, before his hands came up to tug at Dwalin’s hair again.

“Sleep,” he said, “I’ll still be here later, and then we can talk about this… Or… Rest now.”

Dwalin smiled and enjoyed the sensation of Nori caressing his skin and brushing his fingers through his hair. It felt so right. As if Nori had belonged just where he was now ever since Dwalin had his tattoos all over his body. It felt right, and when Dwalin started drifting off to sleep he felt better than he had for too long to even remember, and by the time only Nori was awake, he still had a soft smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I read about how either Graham McTavish or the Weta team said that the tattoos on Dwalin's head are supposed to be the gates of Moria, so I went with that here

**Author's Note:**

> for Day 5 of Nwalin Week, Tattoos or Braids. chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow, this was getting too long for me


End file.
